


A pineapple under the sea

by huxley



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inception_kink, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, Silly, Sleep, Wordcount: 500-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huxley/pseuds/huxley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur laughs in his sleep. Eames finds it adorable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A pineapple under the sea

**Author's Note:**

> A silly mini-fill for [this prompt](http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/19632.html?thread=47082928#t47082928) at inception_kink.

The first time it happened they were in bed, the rain was drumming against the window and Eames wasn’t sure he had heard it right.

Unable to sleep he let his gaze sweep the long line of Arthur’s back and resisted the urge to smooth his hand over the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt or to press his face into the curling hair at the nape of his neck.

Insomnia was damn boring when your bed partner wasn’t good enough to share it with you.

Eames was considering getting up to choke down a few of Arthur’s ridiculous “herbal sleeping aids” when he noticed Arthur’s shoulders heaving against the mattress. His first thought was that he was crying and he stared for a moment as Arthur shook again, his fingers clenching into the sheets. Eames’ breath caught in his throat.

He reached out and brushed Arthur’s hair gently away from his face, only to see the dimple of his cheek as he smiled into his pillow. Eames, disbelieving, leaned over him and heard his soft laughter over the hammering of the rain.

Eames settled back down, biting his lip to keep from laughing himself.

*

“What did you dream about last night?”

Arthur looked up from his newspaper. He stared into space for a moment, thinking.

“Can’t say I remember," he said with a shrug. “Why?”

“No reason," Eames grinned. “Just wondered if it was anything interesting."

“Is this your unsubtle way of finding out if I was dreaming about _you_?” Arthur asked around a mouthful of toast.

“Oh Arthur, it’s always perfectly obvious when you dream about me. All that writhing and moaning. I’m surprised you don’t wake the neighbours."

*

When it next happened, Eames had found him asleep on the sofa with his glasses pushed into his hair and a book resting on his chest. Eames was pulling a blanket up over him when the sound made him pause.

Arthur giggled against his arm before sighing happily and Eames pulled back to watch. Arthur’s eyebrows rose again over another giggle and Eames pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“What’s so funny darling, hmm?” he whispered.

Arthur’s smile only widened and he turned away, snuggling his face into the cushion.

Eames watched as Arthur's breaths became deep and even, pondering the idea of filming him the next time it happened.

*

The next time, however, it scared Eames out of his wits.

He bolted upright up in bed at the sound of a high-pitched cackle and stared around in the darkness. He rolled his eyes when he realised it was Arthur, shaking against the bed and gasping into his pillow at some unknown, hilarious vision.

“It stops being cute when you almost give me a heart attack, Arthur," Eames said. He shook Arthur gently by the shoulder and called his name.

Arthur’s head left the pillow as he jerked out of sleep, the smile falling from his face.

“What – what's wrong?” he asked, his eyes bleary.

“You were laughing in your sleep.”

“I was what?”

“Laughing. In your sleep. _Again_.”

Arthur looked slightly embarrassed.

“Do I do that a lot?” he asked with a frown.

Eames smiled at him and suddenly felt sorry for waking him.

“Not all the time. Just when your subconscious apparently thinks that I need some entertainment.”

Arthur yawned and settled back into his pillow, his eyes already dropping closed again.

“Sorry for waking you," he murmured.

“Me too," said Eames, pulling Arthur’s warm body against his chest.

“I remember what the dream was this time," Arthur said, swirling lazy patterns over Eames’ shoulder with his fingers.

“Yeah?”

“You were Patrick and I was Spongebob," he yawned. “I think Ariadne was Sandy.”

Eames blinked for a moment.

“Arthur, what the hell are you talking about?”


End file.
